


The Wrong House

by Brenda



Series: Gee & Buchanan [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Bucky Barnes As The World's Most Dangerous Housewife, Bucky Barnes Master Tactician, Domestic Bliss, Kittens, M/M, POV Outsider, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Puppies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 03:31:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4690499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brenda/pseuds/Brenda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on this Tumblr prompt: <i>Bucky's home with Gee & Buchanan while Steve's out on a mission and idiot burglars decide that would be a good time to burgle the place. :D</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wrong House

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fadedink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadedink/gifts).



Joe pretty much sees life this way: people, generally speaking, are kinda fucking clueless. Clueless and way too damn stupid, and maybe taking advantage of both of those traits makes Joe a bad person, but whatever. If the human race just wizened up and took some damn responsibility for their own shit and stopped expecting that everyone else was gonna look out for 'em, well, he'd be out of a job, such as it is.

But he'd have a little more faith in his fellow man.

Take the naïve assholes living in the house he's currently scoping out. Nice house in a nice neighborhood, he's looking at some swank living room furniture and a serious entertainment system through the open curtains, and two Harleys, one a classic, visible through the garage door windows. Place practically screams money to burn, but there's no security anywhere – hell, the back window's wide open, like an invitation to rob the place. It'd be criminal _not_ to rob it, as a public service. Just to teach these poor people to take better care with their shit and protect it from people like him.

"You know, I know it's tempting to go there, but I _really_ wouldn't, if I was you."

Joe jumps from his crouched position and whirls around. It's a cloudy night, with a new moon, so he can barely make out the features of the person who'd managed to creep up behind him – tall, dark hair, dark clothes, and something silver glinting in his left hand…

"What the _fuck_ , man?" he snaps, irritable, and itching to yank out his mag light and brain the fucker. He hadn't had anyone get the drop on him since he was ten. How the hell had this dude managed to get in so close without Joe hearing him?

"See, I know what you're thinking," the guy says, ignoring Joe's outburst. "You see a sweet place with some sweet stuff, and it's seductive, sure, I can't fault you for that. I'm tempted to rob the place myself. But you'd regret it."

"Yeah? Why's that?" Joe straightens to his full height and crosses his arms. He's not that much bigger than the dude - he's got maybe ten pounds on him, and possibly an inch, height-wise, but Joe knows he looks like a bruiser who could go a few rounds in the ring. His looks tend to make even the bravest of men back down.

This dude, on the other hand, doesn't even look fazed. Just shrugs and gestures at the house, and that's when Joe notices it's the dude's _hand_ that's silver. Huh. That's new. "Well, I could tell you about the occupants of the house, and how trying to steal from them is a very bad idea, but you don't strike me as the type to impress easily."

"You're damn right about that."

"So, let me tell you about the real terror of the household instead," dude says, and grins, all white, gleaming teeth and arrogance. "We're talking about a totally relentless individual who will make your life a living hell just for _thinking_ about doing what you're doing. Trust me, you do not want to mess around with this particular house."

"You think I'm scared of anyone?" Joe asks, with a disdainful snort. He hasn't shied away from a fight in his life, and he's never backed out of a job once he's done all the legwork.

"No, but I promise you right now, you step foot anywhere on that property, and I'll let you get torn limb from limb and won't do a damn thing to stop it. I'll even help bury what's left of your body _so deep_ , archaeologists in the next century won't find you. You understand what I'm saying?"

Part of Joe wants to call this dude on his bluff – no way he means any of the weird shit he's spouting. But Joe's gotten as far as he's gotten in his life and his career by listening to his gut, and something tells him that this guy is deadly fucking serious right now.

The guy smiles again, and gives a pleasant nod. "You have a nice rest of your evening," he says, and saunters off in the direction of the house.

Shit. The dude lives there - of course he fucking lives there. He should have fucking put it together himself. And now this dude knows what Joe looks like. Which means that's a week's worth of recon wasted. Fuck fuck _fuck_.

But still, no one's ever accused Joe of being a fool, so he just takes one last, longing look at the house, and sighs. "Back to the drawing board," he says to himself, and turns to head to his car.

***

When Steve comes home from their favorite pizza joint twenty minutes later, loaded with three large boxes, he finds Bucky on the living room floor playing tug-of-war with Buchanan's favorite rope toy, and Gee curled up in a little ball asleep on the back of the sofa. "Hey, guys, what'd I miss?"

Buchanan gives a joyful bark and immediately abandons the game to trot over to Steve, tail wagging up a storm. Bucky smiles up at him – slow and soft and welcoming (Steve's favorite) – and stands, stretching his arms to the ceiling, shirt riding up to show just a bare hint of his stomach. Even Gee manages to lift her head to give Steve a sleepy meow before going back to sleep. 

Home sweet home, Steve thinks, with a fierce, fond protectiveness. He wouldn't trade his life for anything else out there.

Bucky takes the boxes from him and leans in for a lingering, soft kiss. "Nothing we couldn't handle," he says, and something about the way he says it…

Yeah, Steve knows that tone.

"Sounds like a story," he says, as he bends to give Buchanan a scratch behind his ears.

Bucky just smirks. "I'll tell you about it over dinner."

***

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Steph for the beta.
> 
> You can now find me on [Tumblr](http://brendaonao3.tumblr.com/). :)


End file.
